is.”
“Wasn’t it the prince, not DeLaBina, who sent you here?” asked Agrippa.
“That’s true,” admitted Fabrizio. “I didn’t even say anything to him. I was just looking at him, hoping he would help me.”
“Maybe he wanted to get you out of that room.”
“He could have asked me to go,” said Fabrizio. “I’d have been happy to leave.”
“Ah! But the dead can’t proclaim their innocence, can they?”
“Does that mean you won’t kill me?” asked Fabrizio.
The executioner shook his head. “God made men. Men make laws. Isn’t that what life is all about?”
“Or death,” Fabrizio felt obliged to say. “But you don’t seem to understand: If something happens to me, things will go badly for my master. I’m supposed to protect him, and he’s about to be arrested.”
“The magician?”
Fabrizio nodded, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
Agrippa leaned forward and tapped the boy on his leg. “Tell me, by any chance, did that master of yours teach you some magic?”
“I was just learning,” said Fabrizio.
“It’s a start.”
Suddenly, Fabrizio said, “I really shouldn’t — my master would not be pleased — but I could show you some magic … for an extra hour of life.”
“I could do that,” said Agrippa.
Remembering what Mangus had done at his performance, Fabrizio rolled back the sleeves of his tunic to show nothing was hidden. He showed the backs of his hands. He extended his right hand to show it empty, too. With a quick wave of his left hand, he made it appear as if a few coins dropped out of Agrippa’s nose.
“Bravo!” said the executioner with grinning delight. “Milking people’s noses for coins. A lovely way to become rich! Show me some more.”
“Another hour?” asked Fabrizio.
“Agreed.”
Fabrizio, recalling the images in Mangus’s magic book, showed an empty hand, before making some coins appear and disappear.
“Wonderful!” said Agrippa. “If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say you had a great future. Why don’t you teach me? An excellent way for me to entertain my guests.”
“If I did, would you let me escape?”
“Can’t.”
“What about four more hours?” countered Fabrizio. “That would give you” — Agrippa counted on his bigfingers — “an extra six hours to live. Just realize that in the end, it all comes to the same thing.”
“Fine.” Fabrizio was just about to turn one coin into another when a loud knocking burst upon the door.
“Boy!” cried the executioner. “Prepare yourself for death!” As he opened the door, Fabrizio fell to his knees and began to murmur frantic prayers.
CHAPTER 10
S TANDING ON THE THRESHOLD WAS A COURTIER WHOSE bright clothing appeared like a bonfire in the dungeon’s foul gloom. One hand bore a lit lamp; the other hand held up a scroll.
“Signor Executioner, I bring a message from my lord.”
Agrippa sighed. “I suppose I’m to break this clever boy’s neck right away.”
Fabrizio clapped his hands to his ears.
The courtier held out the paper. “Signore! It’s not for me, a mere courtier, to read my lord’s words. This message is solely for you.” He handed the scroll to Agrippa, saluted, turned on his heels, and marched into the darkness.
Fabrizio, heart beating to burst, remained crouched in a corner and watched Agrippa through tear-blurred eyes.
With clumsy care, the executioner unrolled the scroll and gazed at what was written.
Fabrizio fell to his knees. “If you spare me!” he croaked. “I’ll teach you all the magic I know!”
The executioner continued to stare at the scroll. “To tell the truth,” he said, looking up. “I’m uncertain what to do. I don’t know how to read.”
“Signore,” said Fabrizio with a surge of hope, “begging your pardon, but with permission, I read … a little.”
Agrippa brightened. “Do you? What a clever lad! Reading has always seemed like magic to me. And you’re a magician’s servant. By all means, be so kind as
“Wasn’t it the prince, not DeLaBina, who sent you here?” asked Agrippa.
“That’s true,” admitted Fabrizio. “I didn’t even say anything to him. I was just looking at him, hoping he would help me.”
“Maybe he wanted to get you out of that room.”
“He could have asked me to go,” said Fabrizio. “I’d have been happy to leave.”
“Ah! But the dead can’t proclaim their innocence, can they?”
“Does that mean you won’t kill me?” asked Fabrizio.
The executioner shook his head. “God made men. Men make laws. Isn’t that what life is all about?”
“Or death,” Fabrizio felt obliged to say. “But you don’t seem to understand: If something happens to me, things will go badly for my master. I’m supposed to protect him, and he’s about to be arrested.”
“The magician?”
Fabrizio nodded, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
Agrippa leaned forward and tapped the boy on his leg. “Tell me, by any chance, did that master of yours teach you some magic?”
“I was just learning,” said Fabrizio.
“It’s a start.”
Suddenly, Fabrizio said, “I really shouldn’t — my master would not be pleased — but I could show you some magic … for an extra hour of life.”
“I could do that,” said Agrippa.
Remembering what Mangus had done at his performance, Fabrizio rolled back the sleeves of his tunic to show nothing was hidden. He showed the backs of his hands. He extended his right hand to show it empty, too. With a quick wave of his left hand, he made it appear as if a few coins dropped out of Agrippa’s nose.
“Bravo!” said the executioner with grinning delight. “Milking people’s noses for coins. A lovely way to become rich! Show me some more.”
“Another hour?” asked Fabrizio.
“Agreed.”
Fabrizio, recalling the images in Mangus’s magic book, showed an empty hand, before making some coins appear and disappear.
“Wonderful!” said Agrippa. “If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say you had a great future. Why don’t you teach me? An excellent way for me to entertain my guests.”
“If I did, would you let me escape?”
“Can’t.”
“What about four more hours?” countered Fabrizio. “That would give you” — Agrippa counted on his bigfingers — “an extra six hours to live. Just realize that in the end, it all comes to the same thing.”
“Fine.” Fabrizio was just about to turn one coin into another when a loud knocking burst upon the door.
“Boy!” cried the executioner. “Prepare yourself for death!” As he opened the door, Fabrizio fell to his knees and began to murmur frantic prayers.
CHAPTER 10
S TANDING ON THE THRESHOLD WAS A COURTIER WHOSE bright clothing appeared like a bonfire in the dungeon’s foul gloom. One hand bore a lit lamp; the other hand held up a scroll.
“Signor Executioner, I bring a message from my lord.”
Agrippa sighed. “I suppose I’m to break this clever boy’s neck right away.”
Fabrizio clapped his hands to his ears.
The courtier held out the paper. “Signore! It’s not for me, a mere courtier, to read my lord’s words. This message is solely for you.” He handed the scroll to Agrippa, saluted, turned on his heels, and marched into the darkness.
Fabrizio, heart beating to burst, remained crouched in a corner and watched Agrippa through tear-blurred eyes.
With clumsy care, the executioner unrolled the scroll and gazed at what was written.
Fabrizio fell to his knees. “If you spare me!” he croaked. “I’ll teach you all the magic I know!”
The executioner continued to stare at the scroll. “To tell the truth,” he said, looking up. “I’m uncertain what to do. I don’t know how to read.”
“Signore,” said Fabrizio with a surge of hope, “begging your pardon, but with permission, I read … a little.”
Agrippa brightened. “Do you? What a clever lad! Reading has always seemed like magic to me. And you’re a magician’s servant. By all means, be so kind as
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